basket, but this particular communication had somehow managed to rivet
his attention. When a man becomes Minister of War he learns for the
first time that apparently the great majority of mankind are engaged in
the manufacture or invention of rifles, gunpowders, and devices of all
kinds for the destruction of the rest of the world.

That morning, the Minister of War had received a letter which announced
to him that the writer of it had invented an explosive so terrible that
all known destructive agencies paled before it. As a Frenchman, he made
the first offer of his discovery to the French Government. It would
cost the Minister nothing, he said, to make a test which would
corroborate his amazing claims for the substance, and the moment that
test was made, any intelligent man would recognize the fact that the
country which possessed the secret of this destructive compound would
at once occupy an unassailable position in a contentious world.

The writer offered personally to convince the Minister of the truth of
his assertions, provided they could go to some remote spot where the
results of the explosion would do no damage, and where they would be
safe from espionage. The writer went on very frankly to say that if the
Minister consulted with the agents of the police, they would at once
see in this invitation a trap for the probable assassination of the
Minister. But the inventor claimed that the Minister's own good sense
should show him that his death was desired by none. He was but newly
appointed, and had not yet had time to make enemies. France was at
peace with all the world, and this happened before the time of the
Anarchist demonstrations in Paris. It was but right, the letter went
on, that the Minister should have some guarantee as to the _bona
fides_ of the inventor. He therefore gave his name and address, and
said if the Minister made inquiries from the police, he would find